Pantomime (39 page)

  I swallowed again, my mouth still dry and tasting of chemicals.

  Bil shook his head. "Still can't believe you tricked us for all this time. Lied to us all, you have. Little Aenea fooling about with another girl, wouldn't have thought it of her." Bil's hand slid down to my stomach. I glared at him and started tugging against the bonds again. If his hand slid much further, he would have far more grounds for blackmail.

  Bil's hand left my stomach, sliding up towards the neckline of my dress. His hand snaked down the front of the bodice, pushing aside the false breasts and feeling the corset over my true ones. One finger wiggled under the corset. I struggled against him as much as I could, the ropes burning my arms, my scream of rage little more than a pathetic squeak behind the gag.

  He pulled his hand away, patted my cheek. "Just checking, girl," he said, and he touched the gag. "I'm going to take this off so you can speak, but you're not to scream, you hear? If you do, I'll crush your throat." His big, meaty hand slid around my windpipe.

  "Understand?" he said, eyes boring into mine, hand squeezing for emphasis.

  All I could do was nod.

  He took out the gag and I ran my tongue around my mouth, trying to dampen it. I coughed.

  "What's your decision then, little miss?"

  My mind was scrambling about in circles. "If you turn me in, then you won't get your reward," I said, my voice rough.

  Bil guffawed. "Oh, and why's that, pet?"

  "They may give you the money, but the officials hate the circus," I bluffed, trying to make my voice sound as female as possible. It was harder to do, now – my voice had lowered. "You may get the money, but you'd have the tax men pounding at your door, with rules and bans on where you can set up. It's not worth it."

  Bil perched on the bed, the ropes creaking beneath his substantial weight. I squirmed against my bonds again.

  I paused.

  Bil had not tied the bonds well. It had been years since he had tied the strong knots to secure the big top. I had almost managed to work one of the ropes far enough up my hand that I could pop the thumb over. Almost.

  "I knew you'd say something like that. And you see, I thought of that. Which is why I would prefer the money from your rich noble friends. If you can't get it from them, your family will pay up, and I can deliver them their precious daughter, safe and sound. They get what they want without the Policiers taking a commission." He laughed, hard and harsh.

  I made a show of struggling again. I braced myself and
pulled.
My thumb dislocated and popped over the rope in a burst of pain. I gasped.

  "I can't go back to them," I said. "I won't. Please, don't do this, Bil.
Please." T
ears of pain slid down my face as I unworked the bonds behind my back.

  Bil looked at me, regret and pity in his bloodshot eyes. He swayed softly, the stench of alcohol and stale breath washing over me. "I ain't got a choice, Micah, or whoever you are. This circus is mine, and I'll do anything to save it. Anything."

  "I know," I said, and punched him in the face.

  My thumb exploded with further pain. I recoiled at the meaty sound of my fist against his cheek. I had hit true, and Bil roared. I kicked him again, and, unbalanced by the punch, he staggered to the other side of the room.

  Fingers fumbling, I untied my bonds from my ankles and leapt from the bed and made a dash for the door. I tripped over the long fabric of my dress. Bil grabbed my skirt, ripping it. False pearls scattered. Kicking at him, I grabbed the door handle with one hand and thumped the door loudly with the other.

  "Help!" I screamed.

  "Shut your trap. I'm saving my circus, girl. I won't lose sleep over sending one little brat back home for a bit of dosh," Bil grunted. He banged my head against the door of the cart and my vision swam. I wriggled wildly.

  Bil's grip around my waist slipped and his hand slithered between my legs. He froze. I know what he had felt, beneath the layers of fabric. And he knew what I had under my bodice. I kicked him hard in the stomach and pulled free from his grasp. He stumbled backwards, winded but not injured. His face flushed, his eyes darkened. Bil grasped his ringmaster's cane, raising it as if about to strike me. His face showed no mercy. Only anger.

  He swung, and I rolled. The cane thumped hard into the planks of the cart where my head had been moments before. Bil staggered, unbalanced by the swing and his drink. I kicked him again, but his hand grasped my leg and I crashed to the floor. I was too winded to scream.

  And Bil hit me over and over again, the blows from his cane raining down. I covered my head as best I could with my arms, the pain bursting into flames on my shoulder, my arms, my back. A blow struck the side of my head and my vision wobbled. Another hit my upper left arm with a sickening crack, pain radiating through my shoulder. Through a gap in my arm I saw Bil's purple face contorted with rage, spittle flying from his mouth. He had lost it, I realized through the haze of agony.

  And he was going to kill me.

  The door unbolted. Hope surged in me when the blows stopped. Bil crouched over me, one hand formed in a fist, the other still clutching his cane, breathing heavily. I had a bump growing on my forehead and the beginnings of deep bruises on my arms and neck, and the remains of my bonds dangled about my wrists.

  Drystan poked his head into the cart. My heart leapt in my chest. With his stage makeup cracked and his pale motley and hair, he looked like an avenging ghost. Behind him, Aenea also peered in. They glanced between the two of us and froze.

  "This isn't what it looks like," Bil slurred.

  "Oh really? Looks to me like you're about to kill poor Micah, here." Drystan said.

  "Micah… are you alright?"

  I managed to moan.

  "This is a… business meeting," he grated. "And it ain't got nothing to do with you."

  "Bil, you're the one who dragged me into your mess," Drystan said. "And you didn't give me a choice in the matter. I'd say it has everything to do with me."

  The words slid through me. I did not understand.

  "You're drunk. Sober up, have some water, and calm down. Let Micah go. Don't punish him for your misdeeds."

  "Yes, Bil, please. Just let him go." Aenea said, creeping toward him and holding her hands out.

  "Him?" Bil sneered. "You don't know nothin', and you never did." Bil raised his cane again.

  "Were you going to turn Micah in?" Aenea asked.

  "Like I said, you don't know nothin'. The both of you." Bil's chest heaved like a bellows, his white-knuckled fists against his side.

  "I know more than you, it would seem. Policiers won't give you your cut, you know. They'll hold it from the thousands of marks of taxes you owe them and then fine you for the rest." Aenea's eyes would not leave Bil's face. I was touched – she did not want me anymore, and she did not forgive me, but she wanted what was right.

  Bil shook his head, mutely. "I know that. But this girl has noble friends with deep pockets who'll pay. They'll have to. The circus needs it."

  "The circus is dead, Bil," Drystan said. "It's been dying a long time. You just haven't accepted it yet. There will be no R.H. Ragona's Circus of Magic next season, or ever again. You've dug yourself a hole you can't possibly get out of, long before what happened to Frit."

  
What happened to Frit?

  Bil's face purpled. "Don't you mention her to me. You hear? Don't you dare!"

  "Haunted by the memory of your murdered wife, Bil? Regret and guilt keeping you up at night?"

  Aenea gasped.

  The pieces fell into place with horrible certainty.

  Bil roared, lurching to his feet. His hands balled into fists as he glared at Drystan, with me forgotten in the corner.

  "Let it go, Bil," Drystan said, holding his fists at the ready. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "You do," Bil growled. "You both hate me and have for a long time now."

  Aenea's gaze met mine, and she nodded, as if confirming something.

  Lightning quick, Aenea rushed Bil and jumped onto his back, her strong arms closing about his neck. Bil sputtered and tried to shake her off, but she held on like a limpet. I forced air into my lungs, struggling to my feet. Bil pried Aenea off his neck. Drystan darted toward him but Bil backhanded him with his other hand and sent him sprawling. While Drystan recovered, Bil drew back his fist and punched Aenea full in the face. Her head snapped back like a doll's and she went limp. With a growl, Bil tossed her across the room. Aenea's head hit the bedpost and I heard a sickening crack. She fell to the floor. Her open, glassy eyes stared at me, seeing nothing.

  For a moment, time stopped. None of us moved. None of us breathed. My mind could not register what had happened. And then Drystan attacked Bil. Like me, he was strong from his time in the circus, but it was his agility, honed from chasing the other clowns around the ring, that was frightening. Drystan stooped down and picked up the discarded teak cane.

  He pressed it against Bil's throat.

  I struggled upright, staggering over to Aenea's motionless body. Bil had ripped the bodice of the dress in our struggle. I pulled the scraps of fabric uselessly about a bare shoulder and I pressed two fingers to her neck. There was no pulse. I let out a wounded cry.

  It happened in an instant. A fraction of an instant.

  Drystan swung the cane at Bil's head. I must believe that he only wished to knock Bil out. But Drystan's thumb pressed against the ruby eye of the carved ram at the head of the cane. Just at the moment of impact, a long, thin blade emerged from the end, sliding sickeningly across Bil's throat.

  Bil sputtered. The acrid tang of blood filled the air. The color fled his face as scarlet rivulets of blood slid down his neck. He looked at me with an accusatory stare as his eyes dimmed.

  I covered my face with my hands and shuddered. In less than a day my entire world had changed. I had gone from star attraction at a circus to a fugitive, and now two people were dead – one I had loved and one I had feared. I had never seen a dead body before. I hoped I would never have to see one again.

  The sound of retching made me look up. Drystan had dropped the cane in horror, its blade stained red with blood.

  "I… I didn't mean to," Drystan said, his voice flat.

  "I know," I said, though I could not be completely sure. What if he knew of the hidden blade? I pushed the thought from my mind. "He was going to kill you. Kill both of us. Like he killed–" I could not say her name. My throat closed tight as I stroked her hair.

  "I know, Micah. I know."

  The wall within me broke and the tears started, which turned into loud, ugly sobs. Tears fell onto Aenea's head. With trembling fingers, I closed her eyes. All my fault.

  Drystan helped me up and I gasped in pain. My upper arm bone was definitely fractured, if not outright broken, and I had more bruises than the Leopard Lady had spots. The pain coursed through me and my mind was fuzzy from shock and several blows to the head. I shook my head from side to side, as if that could erase all that I had just witnessed. If only I could go back in time and run away sooner – leave it all behind before it went wrong.

  "We should go," Drystan said, staring at the body. He looked deflated; his shoulders slumped, the smeared clown makeup of his face garish. A parody of a sad clown. I fought down a hysterical giggle.

  "Should we… do anything for them?" I asked.

  "There is nothing for them we can do," he said, and I knew it was true. Blood soaked into the floorboards, giving Bil a crimson halo. With her eyes closed, Aenea looked as though she were sleeping. The floor was littered with overturned circus props and the remnants of my rope bonds and the pearls from my dress. I knelt and began picking them up.

  "They link me to here, don't they?" I said, my hands shaking so badly I could barely pick up the pearls. Some were scattered in the blood. I reached for them–

  Drystan's hand clasped mine, drew it away. His hand was cold and dry.

  "Don't bother, Micah. They'll know it was us," Drystan said. He gave my hand a squeeze, mindful of my swollen thumb, and I knew that we were linked in this. Our ears strained for sounds of approach. The bonfire celebrations must have drowned the noise of our struggle.

  I let the pearls scatter to the floor.

  "What will happen to the circus?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

  "The circus is over. The collectors will prey on it the moment they know Bil is gone. Everything will be broken down and sold off. The performers and workers will scatter to other shows and other circuses. There is no more Circus of Magic." Drystan's voice was still horribly flat, devoid of any emotion or inflection. Mine did not sound much better.

  "Did he really kill Frit?" I said, refusing to look at what had once been Bil Ragona.

  "He did. The night of her so-called disappearance. He hit… He hit her too hard." Drystan's voice cracked and he avoided looking at Aenea. "He panicked. He called on me to help him get rid of her body." He gestured toward the ocean. He shook his head, trying to forget the images that lurked beneath his eyes.

  I opened my mouth, but he shook his head and my mouth snapped shut.

  "I didn't want to. But he knew my secrets. And I had no choice."

  
What secrets did Drystan have?

  I sniffed and rubbed at my nose, turning from him. My gaze fell on the safe where I had seen Frit, her hands filled with gold coins and her eyes filled with pain.

  "Do you know the combination?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  "Open it."

  He nodded again and moved to the safe, his long fingers turning the lock. I went to the door, listening for any sounds of approach. A sea shanty floated up the beach. Sayid had begun to play his sitar, and another tumbler, probably Amir, played the drums. Juliet sang the tune, her strong voice dancing over the notes. The sounds of merriment clashed with the horror surrounding me. The performers, the workers, my friends and my enemies. None of them knew what was coming tomorrow.